Tag Archives: dust

Longest Ache

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The longest ache.

Tears form in the corner of my eyes when

I remember the magic i felt,

The beauty I witnessed.

And I remember wiping

The red dust from my cheeks

So long ago.

The joy and the wonder a new sight can

bring,

The souls one meets that love a song.

To think

Once

I did not believe.

It was another life now

And then another

And here I am still in wonder.

The longest ache sears through my veins.

The yearning remains.

The ancient beats within my heart reverberate

Through time unseen in synchronization with those who came before

And those yet to come.

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Olive Tree

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As

Evenings light was falling

I chose to take

A walk among the olive trees.

Others were elsewhere

Settling for dinner.

The earth was dry,

Dust rising and making a bit

Of a haze as 

I moved toward the sun.

I came to a low rock wall deep in the orchard 

And 

Decided to take

A moment of rest.

Removing my backpack to use as a pillow

I lay upon the ground.

I swear I heard laughter

And the shuffle of bare feet behind me,

I quickly sat up and turned my head to find no 

one around.
Maybe the ghosts were as delighted as me

Under those old olive trees.

And I wondered how many souls had tread 

Here,

How many had stopped to take a moment and

Replenish their weary hearts with these roots 

Beneath them?

How many partook

With joy

The nectar

Of the olive tree before me?

Old Riverbed

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Walking the old river bed,

How often has the course changed?

How often the boulders

Worn to rocks

Worn to pebbles

Worn to dust?

The river carries them on,

Shape shifting.

How often the roots of mighty trees exposed,

How often

They held on until

Nothing left for them to grasp,

They succumb to the way

And float on?

How often no man stands to witness the

Sound

Of the fall?

All

Become one

With the river

Eventually

Returning

To the sea.

Old riverbeds remain and regrow from tiny

Seed to become mighty trees

They return

In time forgetting the river.

Summer is Done

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I open the window with anticipation.

There I hear the birds last summer song,

For summer is done.

Crisp autumn air wafts into the room

Sweeping away with it

Summer’s dust which has settled in the nooks

And crannies,

Yet

Not on open books.

My mind is filled with wondrous thoughts of

Falling leaves and cooler mornings to come.

I look to my garden for one last flower

To which

I find none.